About the Little Girl that Beat Her Sister
Go, go, my naughty girl, and kissYour little sister dear;I must not have such things as this,And noisy quarrels here.
What! little children scratch and fight,That ought to be so mild;Oh! Mary, it's a shocking sightTo see an angry child.
I can't imagine, for my part,The reason for your folly;She did not do you any hurtBy playing with your dolly.
See, see, the little tears that runFast from her watery eye:Come, my sweet innocent, have done,'Twill do no good to cry.
Go, Mary, wipe her tears away,And make it up with kisses:And never turn a pretty playTo such a pet as this is.
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